


Make a House a Home

by Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, genderneutral reader, this is just soft fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff
Summary: Early mornings are your favourite time.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Make a House a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by @i-am-a-smol-sweet-potato: Hey, there 👋🏻! I saw you were taking requests so could you do a fluffy one-shot with Cal Kestis x reader (male, female, genderneutral--whatever floats your boat). Maybe they cuddle, maybe hair is played with, maybe neck nuzzles, maybe BD-1 is there, maybe they're all just cute. Seriously up to you!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at writings-of-a-hufflepuff.tumblr.com

The engine room has never been the most comfortable part of the Mantis, not that most starships were built for comfort, but you’d done your best to make it as homely as you could. Cal had been a little confused the first time you’d come back from a market on Etti in the Outer Rim with blankets, pillows, throws, and other soft goods. Greez had complained about fire hazards and you turning his engine room into some sort of den, but you’d waved him off and argued that if Cal and yourself were being forced to sleep in there then the least you deserved was a soft and comfortable environment. That had put a stop to his complaining and you’d been left to your own devices. 

Now, the engine room was something more; soft blankets, plush pillows, string lights that Greez constantly complained about, even a rug on the hard metal floor to soften your footfalls in the early morning hours of your day cycle. Somehow, you’d managed to make this engine room, this ship a home, not just a place to sleep or escape to, but a home. Cal always felt he didn’t thank you enough for that, for the first time in years he had a home. 

Early morning hours, like now, were some of your favourites. You slowly blinked yourself awake, feeling yourself wrapped in Cal’s arms. The feeling secure and strong, one of them around your waist, the other laid across your hip, fingers drawing soothing circles into the exposed skin where your sleep shirt had risen in the night. He was always so warm and you couldn’t help but wriggle back into his chest and sigh at the warmth of him. Wrapped in his arms, surrounded by soft blankets, still sleepy and content, this was your favourite time. It was a moment that was all consumingly Cal, from the scent you could only describe as comfort and distinctly him, to the warmth of his chest against your back, the smoothness of his skin against your own. Everything about these early morning hours made your heart clench with love. 

“Mmm, good morning, sunshine.” An aquiline nose dips into the divot between your neck and shoulder, nuzzling against your skin and tracing shapes across it with a happy little sigh and you return it with one of your own. You trail your fingers behind you, over the curve of Cal’s shoulder, tickling over the side of his neck before resting, twisted in brilliant red strands of his hair.

You twist and turn the strands, scratch delicately against his scalp as he practically purrs leaning back into your touch, before pressing his face back into your shoulder. The kisses he leaves across your skin are sweet and simple, delicate little things that cause the corners of your mouth to lift into a soft little smile that crinkles the corners of your eyes. You close them, stroke your cold toes across the back of his calf and hum as his kisses venture towards your jaw and over your cheek. 

“G’morning, baby…” You open your eyes at an indignant little beep to see BD-1 hop up onto your little cot with the two of you, if a droid could look angry the little thing certainly would. You reach a hand forward, the tip of your finger scratching the top of his head as you say, “And good morning to my other baby.” You laugh as BD-1 chirps happily at your acknowledgement coming to settle in the space next to you, making himself a warm little nest beside your joined bodies. 

“I think he loves you more than me.” You settle your head back against Cal’s shoulder, letting out a huff of a laugh as Cal mumbles it, pouting into your hair. Clearly put out that his little buddy, his favourite little droid might favour you. You know that’s silly, know that there’s no easy way to pick favourites or compare people or droids you care about. 

“Beep-boop-beep” The little droid chimes in, big lenses looking between the two of you. Your fingers curl a little deeper into Cal’s hair, a reassuring scratch of your nails over his scalp as you ease the pout from his lips. He’s not quite sure how he got so lucky, not to just have survived, but to have found you and BD-1, to have this. A home.

“Exactly, BD doesn’t pick favourites, Cal! You know that.” You knew the droid would have picked Cal anyway, if he could. Cal was the one who found him, helped him, there was nowhere Cal went that BD-1 didn’t follow.

“Mmmm...sure.” His tone is lighter now, a teasing lilt to it as he brushes his fingers across your side, over your ribs. Little reassuring circles pressed into the skin as they tip toe across it. 

“Besides, you’re my favourite.” You turn pressing a quick kiss to his lips, nose nuzzling against his own as you meet his green eyes. They’re always soft, but especially so in the mornings, a haze of sleepiness over them.

There’s an annoyed, “Beep!” that draws your eyes back to BD-1 indignant that he’s not your favourite out of himself and Cal and you let out a little laugh and scratch his head again. That coupled with your reminder that, “You’re still my favourite droid, BD-1”, eases his mood and he settles back down again. 

“I wish we could stay like this...just wrapped in blankets, warm, no responsibilities, nothing…” You capture his hand on your side in your own, twist your fingers together, intertwining them. You always liked how it looked, holding Cal’s hand, like a physical representation of the closeness you shared. Your heart was irrevocably intertwined with his and you doubted anything would be able to change that. It didn’t matter what he’d been taught for years, he was attached and there was no going back, so he’d dived headfirst in. 

“Maybe one day we can?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me, baby.”

It’s a promise of sorts, that one day you’ll put the running and fighting behind you. That one day there will be no missions to wake you, no quest, no cause to fight for. Just lazy warm mornings and gentle kisses, soft touches and quiet words. And BD-1’s annoyed beeps of course.


End file.
